Pale Moon Rising
by smaugs-mommy
Summary: Frodo's journey to the undying lands. ( Sequel to Too Real)
1. Default Chapter

Pale moon rising 

**Summary:** Sequel to Too real ( more or less), Frodo's journey to the undying lands.

**Rated:** PG13…PG more likely…

**AN **:Originally I wrote this story for a different purpose and in a different language. This is some kind of a translation with a few added details.

Translating something from another language into English seems a little bit silly to me ( and I'm not used to it either), maybe this is why I'm not quite satisfied with the result.

Still, I hope you are going to enjoy it.

(If there's somebody called Lenamellona reading this she will know where I recycled the idea from)

**Disclaimer:** Frodo, Gandalf, the rain curtain and all the others characters are Tolkien's, the writing is mine.

Parts marked with are cites from The Lord of the Rings, " Many Partings". I think I don't need to say where " all souls pass"…is from.

Thanks to Lily Baggins and to FrodoBaggins 1987

" All souls pass into West" .

It is a sunny day, perhaps.

It might as well be a day of clouds and storm, it would not make a difference to Frodo, for the sunlight is lost on him; the ring is destroyed, molten in the fires where it was forged, but it was not Frodo who destroyed it, and if it had not been for Gollum it would not have been destroyed at all.

This knowledge was not there when he awoke in Ithilien, but it came all too soon .And it is this knowledge which will drive him into insanity . Sam has not realized yet, for Frodo has learned how to pretend everything is fine, but one day he will. And than it will brake his heart.

_It would be better_, Frodo marvels, _if I left straight away, never to return_.

But _that _might be even worse for Sam.

With an agonized sigh he looks up, into Arwen's face which is sad and smiling at the same time.

" and yours will as well" she finishes her sentence. Frowning, he waits for her to go on.

" There is a place " she soothes " were all elvish souls go, when they are tired of living in middle-earth. Since you were a Ring-bearer" she goes on and Frodo's thoughts wander away. _Ring-bearer, you were a Ring -bearer_. The words keep echoing in his minds, causing a slight but penetrating headache.

He was a ring bearer, in the end it was all he was. Now, where the ring is destroyed, he is nothing but a lost soul amidst dark waters of memories, which try to pull him down, to drown him in despair, to make the little what is left of his once so cheerful life sink.

" Are you listening to what I'm saying, Frodo Baggins?"

" No" he answers " I did not listen. I apologize".

He is sitting by the fountain , furry feet not touching the ground, hands cramped into fists, eyes empty and dull. Arwen bents over until her brow touches Frodo's and as she speaks again her voice is as soft and comforting as the first gentle wind in spring.

" A gift I will give you" she whispers into the hobbit's pointy ears ." For I am the daughter of Elrond. I shall not go with him when he departs to the havens, for mine is the choice of Luthien. And as she so I have chosen, both the sweet and the bitter. But in my stead you shall go, Ring –bearer, when time comes and you desire it. If your hurts grieve you still and the memory of your burden is heavy, then you may pass into the West."

Frodo lifts his head, his eyes shining either with unshed tears or with a light resembling the hobbit he used to be. A small silvery image of the gem that lies upon Arwen's breast hanging on a silver chain is reflected in his pupils. With slender fingers, Arwen takes the chain and then sets it about Frodo's neck.

" When the memory of the fear and the darkness troubles you" she says " this will bring you aid".

The hobbit nods and presses her hands in thankful understanding.

°°°

The gem does not rescue him, though. It eases his pain, but it does not change the past, which keeps haunting Frodo.

For Sam's sake he tries to stay ,tries to be brave, and not to complain when the wounds trouble him. Yet he soon comes to a point, where he can no longer hide that, deep in his tormented soul he is suffering, and has been suffering from the very day he decided to take the ring to Mordor.

While taking away the ability to feel happiness the ring has given him the doubtful gift of foresight. Sometimes, in the early hours between night and morning, when up is down and tears are blood , he catches snippets of the future , which is about to come when he does not leave for the grey havens. It is a future he does not want to come upon Sam and Rose and their children.

Sam's love and the promise to finish the red book make him stay in Bag End for a couple of years, but as the dreams, the pain and the memories take hold of him he decides to depart , knowing perfectly well that it will be a departure into his own death.

°°°

It is night, pale moon shining through fleecy clouds, the ocean sounding with the sighing of whales and other giants of the depths.

The sea seems to grow larger around them, until there is nothing but water from one horizon to the next.

Soon , the first raindrops start falling , cold and large, and the ocean's calm surface brakes like a shattered mirror.

Frodo remains , where he has been standing for most of the journey, looking west. Before long, his cloak is soaked, and so are his curls. Yet he stays, holding the phial in one hand and wiping rain drops out of his face with the other one. The light of Galadriel's glass glitters through his fingers, it casts a soft light on his weary face and the now troubled sea.

The rain does not cease and Frodo is about to leave and go inside, but as he suddenly smells a foreign , yet sweet fragrance he freezes in his steps and turns around.

A singing and calling , different to that which has accompanied their journey, is coming a along with the scent.

"We'll be there soon" Gandalf is standing behind him. Frodo has not heard him coming. Maybe because Gandalf tried to cause no noise.

Or perhaps because his own senses are slowly fading away.

The old wizard lays his hands on Frodo's shoulders, to give him strength for their crossing's last minutes. The hobbit is trembling , but not with cold, and the phial's light weakens as life is slowly leaving the hobbit's hands.

Carefully, Gandalf lifts him up and holds him close. The Istar's eyes are sad, for he knows that under usual circumstances Frodo would have struggled against being cradled like a child.

"Where's Bilbo?" Frodo asks weakly, dreading and knowing the answer already.

Gandalf calls out for Elrond, and he steps to Gandalf's side. The old hobbit is resting in his arms, one hand dangling out of the robes.

Frodo tries to stand on his own feet, reaches out for Bilbo and softly caresses the back of his uncle's hand with two fingers. Gandalf's hand is lying on his burning shoulder. " Don't weep. Your uncle Bilbo has been very old. Older than any hobbit, or man should be" Frodo does not weep. He is too exhausted to shed any tears, and he knows that it had been time for Bilbo to go and search for adventures somewhere else.

°°

"I'm falling" Frodo murmurs and then remains silent, not realizing that Gandalf is holding him again, not realizing that there is nowhere to fall.

The wizard is almost sure that Frodo will not move or speak again when he hears him cough.

" Is there anything" he begins " we can do for you, my dear hobbit?"

The hobbit tries to sit up in the wizard's arms, something makes him smile and, after a moment of silence, he nods towards the now lifting veil of rain.

The ocean turns into a translucent blue , white shores appear in the distance , a white tower and a green land.

" I would like for Sam to find peace here" Frodo says "he was a ring-bearer too, and the bravest of all, if I may say so. If it had not been for him I would not have come very far."

" He will" Gandalf responds, placing a hand on the hobbit's brow. " He will find peace and you as well"

The hobbit smiles and sighs with relief. "Sam" 

The phial rolls out of his limp hands, and falls into the sea, where it hits a stone and shatters.

And the gulls are calling…calling…calling.

TBC


	2. Second chapter

**Second chapter**

**AN :** I am very sorry but there might be no more updates until August, I've moved, I'm living on my own now and real life does not leave much time for writing and reading…

Rating, Disclaimer, etc: same as for the first one.

-----

In deep grief Gandalf carries his precious burden through a green forest, up a mountain and then down again on the other side. He has wrapped Frodo into a cloak, as if to keep him warm. He knows that he has the power to bring his friend back to life, at least for a short time. And perhaps long enough to see Sam again.

But he also knows that he must not use this power, and thus he goes on, trying to avoid looking directly into Frodo's eyes, which are still open and seem too young and too old at the same time. Too old they seem in such a young face, yet too young to be unblinking and dead.

Darkness falls early, as Gandalf the white reaches a silent clearing.

He has been away a long time, but the clearing has remained unchanged, beautiful, the residence of a few elves tired of mortal life's grief.

During his life in Middle-earth he has often thought of this place, especially while visiting Rivendell. Both places differ only in one thing, one being closer to perfection than the other. It's flawless, the white buildings shining through the night, candles behind the windows, and furthermore it is spring here, whereas the elves had reached the autumn of their being in Middle-earth.

A figure with a candle emerges from the smooth darkness between the houses and Gandalf recognizes her as Celebrian, Arwen's mother and Elrond's wife. She is pale, yet as beautiful as her daughter. The time she spent in the blessed realms has healed her.

Her face is sad, though. When she left Rivendell she already feared that her daughter's fate might be that of Lúthien. Seeing her mother and her husband she slows down, knowing that her fears have become bitter reality.

She has seen Gandalf before, although she has known him under a different name and with his hair and beard still grey. She greets him respectfully, wants to go on, but something makes her stop and she turns around to look at the small being in the wizard's arms.

"Who may that be, I wonder?" she steps closer to him, "is he an elven -child? But then – he cannot be, for there are no more children of our kin coming from Middle-earth"

"He is a hobbit." Gandalf answers her question, "A hobbit from the Shire. Frodo Baggins was his name."

"A _hobbit?"_ she repeats thoughtfully. " What is a _hobbit_?" " One of the _Periannath. _Have you never heard of them before?_" _

"Seldom. And I never saw one."

She pauses and then asks the question Gandalf has silently dreaded. "Why do you say 'his name _was _Frodo Baggins'? Did he die? Why? And why is a hobbit allowed to come here? A lot must have happened on the eastern shores."

"A lot has happened, indeed" the wizard nods. "And most of it would take too long to explain now, and your mother and husband are waiting for you. Yet, two of your questions can be answered quickly. Yes, he died, when we reached the shores. Why, I cannot say.

Your second question will surely be answered by this – ", saying these words, he pulls back the cloak in which he has wrapped the hobbit, to show her the gem. Immediately, Celebrian's eyes fill with tears.

"I see" lovingly she strokes the gem "He is wearing my daughter's pendant." Gently she closes Frodo's eyes "Is this why he was allowed to come here? Is it because she offered him her necklace? Would it not have been better for him to stay in Middle-earth and die in the arms of those who loved him?"

"He would not have died" the wizard answers, shaking his head. "The ring would have forced him to stay alive until the end of all times. Bringing him here spares both him and his friends a lot of suffering. Your daughter was very wise and brave when she gave Frodo her pendant."

Celebrian wipes away a tear. "You are right, Mithrandir", she forces herself to speak on "And I do understand her decision." Drawing in a deep breath she finishes her sentence "… one day I would like to hear the rest of your story, but not tonight.

And your little friend, he shall rest in my room. He must have been dear to my daughter and that makes him dear to me as well"

She hands him her candle, and walks off to meet her mother and her husband,

An old figurine watches over the entrance of her room. It is a little girl, carved out of marble. Her eyes are made of sapphires, and they follow Gandalf as he carries Frodo to the bed. He puts the candle down on the table at the side of the bed and then he places the hobbit upon the soft blankets.

Long into the night he holds vigil at the bedside of the hobbit, who is never to awake again.

He does not see the light of the stars, and neither does he hear the comforting whisper of the waves on the shores. The stars fade, the noises fade, the whole world diminishes to the small warm circle drawn by the candle's light, and the wise wizard does not see anything but Frodo's pale and still face, and he feels old, older than ever, although he has now returned to the place where he used to dwell in his youth.

And he feels guilty for appointing the Ring to Frodo and by this deed first taking all happiness out of the hobbit's life, and then claiming the life itself.

The thought of Frodo passing away with a sigh of relief and a smile on his face is no comfort to him.

For now the hobbit is not smiling anymore, his face is genuine and serene, but not happy; small white hands are folded over his chest like those of a slain warrior and he, too, seems to be older than the marble figurine at his room's entrance.

It is short before sunrise when the Istar leaves Frodo for a very long time.

His heart is still filled with sorrow and a creeping sort of despair, when he reaches the gardens of Lórien, where he sits down to rest, and to write the letter, which has to be written and sent to Sam. It is a short letter, consisting of not more than a few sentences, yet the wizard is not able to recall another letter which took him as long to write as this one.

He ties the letter to a gull's leg, for the gulls are the travellers between the worlds, bringing forth the news of those who come and those who go.

---

Many years later he comes back to Tol Eressea and there he finds Frodo exactly as he left him. Only that now there is no candle burning at the hobbit's bedside, and that his hair and face are covered with a thick layer of grey but protecting dust. Gandalf does not know how long he has been away, for time in Valinor is different from the time anywhere else. He might have aged a year in a minute, decades in an hour; ages might have passed while he tried to write the letter. There might even be no Middle-earth on the eastern side of the ocean anymore.

Yet he could have been away for what would have seemed like a second to a mortal.

He does not know.

Sighing deeply Gandalf wipes away the grey powder with a soft piece of cloth. He is amazed to see that his friend's face is still unchanged, for deep in his heart he has feared to come back and find nothing but a skeleton resting in the bed.

The Istar does not speak, for the creature, which was once a loving and lovable hobbit seems more fragile to him than ever. A word spoken out too loudly could destroy him and leave nothing behind for Sam to find.

Thus in silence he remains, until, one day, the very last ship arrives, carrying Frodo's most loyal friend and gardener.

---

To his own and also to Gandalf's astonishment, Sam does not die within sight of the blessed realms. Led by an ancient elf he arrives at the clearing, where he is welcomed by Gandalf.

They hug each other; there is no need for words as their eyes tell them all they have to know.

Finally the old hobbit lets go of the wizard and looks at him questioningly.

"Where…where's Frodo? … Is... is he... in _there_" he points towards the room Frodo has not left since he was brought to it.

"Yes, Sam" Gandalf answers "You will find him there. Go in. I shall not disturb you"

The hobbit hesitates, studying Gandalf's face carefully. "What will I see?" he asks, in a manner the wizard would have expected from Frodo, but not from Sam.

"Go in" Gandalf repeats, "Frodo looks fine. Do not be afraid, Samwise Gamgee "

Sam closes his eyes and steps in. The figurine is watching each of his movements.

The hobbit's eyes need a few minutes until they are comfortable with the comparatively dim light in the room. Then he gives a strangled little cry and grabs one of his friend's hands. He looks back to Gandalf, who is staying outside, as he promised.

"He hasn't changed much. Not at all, to be honest." Sam does not wait for Gandalf to answer and goes on. "See, Mr Frodo," he says, wanting to believe that a part of Frodo can still hear him. "See what I found on the shore ". And with this he pulls out Galadriel's phial.

"It is yours," he whispers.

"But it was broken," not believing his tired, old eyes the wizard comes in and touches the glass.

Sam frowns. "I know" he replies "I could feel it, when it broke. It was like a stab into my heart."

Both fall silent, one of them sitting on each side of Frodo's bed, watching over him as if he was an ailing child. "It will not light for me, though" Sam finally breaks the silence and closes Frodo's fingers around the phial. It stays cold and dull. Sighing Sam lays down his head on Frodo's silent chest, waiting for a heartbeat that is never to come.

Galadriel's phial begins to glow one last time, enveloping both of them in a soft light.

Gandalf stays at their side, a single tear trickling down his wrinkled cheek. Silently he watches as the last of the Ring-bearers falls asleep.

THE END


End file.
